Tumbling Through History
by PageOfWands
Summary: A brief glimpse into the infancy of Susan and Neville Longbottom's first child.


**Title: **Tumbling Through History 

**Author: **PageOfWands

**Summary: **A brief glimpse into the infancy of Susan and Neville Longbottom's first child.

**Length:** One-shot

**Author's Notes:** In order for any of this to make sense, you must have read "Living Amongst Ghosts," which is also accessible here at FFNet.

**Dedication:** For all the fans of "Living Amongst Ghosts" who wanted a little more.

I was 31 when Neville and I finally got around to having our first child. I'd wanted to wait for my parents to be done with their brood, because I was a little squeamish about the idea of Mum and Dad having children younger than their grandchildren. About a year after I returned from the past, they had their first, a boy they named Cedric. Then, two years later, a girl, Emmaline. Then five years after that, twin boys, called Albus and Sirius. Mum seemed to be satisfied, then, with her houseful of proof that Harry had returned to her at last.

It was difficult for me to think of them as siblings -- by the time the twins were born, I was a married woman, and I hadn't lived at home since the day I graduated Hogwarts. I thought of them mostly as my nephews and niece, though this was perhaps less true of Cedric. Cedric was an old soul, though, and looked like Harry in miniature, so I often forgot he was eighteen years my junior.

So I gave it some time after the twins' birth to stop using my Contraceptive Potion. Neville started wheedling me when the twins were out of nappies. "Sweetheart, your mother said they'll be the last ones. Do you really think we need to wait any longer?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps we don't need to, but I'd feel better if we did."

"I'm going to be the oldest new father at St. Mungo's," he grumped.

I cupped a hand around his cheek and kissed his nose. "You don't look to me a day over eighteen."

He took my hand from his face and kissed it. "You'll be sorry when I'm too old and bent to pick up our children."

I rolled my eyes. "You won't be old for another fifty years, if then. McGonagall didn't go gray till I had left school, practically."

"You want to wait till I'm eighty to have children? That's fine by me. But you'd better get on quite well with the milkman, because --"

I shrieked a laugh at that and batted at him in playful recrimination. "I'm not having the milkman's babies," I gasped as he tickled me. "I want my babies to have your dimples."

And so our firstborn did, much to my delight. We gave him the very ponderous name of Algernon Wulfric Longbottom -- for his Great-Great Uncle Algie, naturally, and for Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore -- but he swiftly became A.W., thanks in part to his Great-Uncles Fred and George.

Mum, despite that she had her own hands full with the twins, swooped down upon our little apartment in Ireland to give us all the hand-me-downs we could possibly need, along with old toys, a camera, and an eager desire to hold a baby again.

"You forget how they smell," she said rapturously, clutching A.W. to her chest. "Well, you never really forget. You just forget that you know already."

I smiled. The two of us were alone having tea in the kitchen; Neville was downstairs minding the store, though he'd had no sleep in three days. We took turns minding the nusery and the baby. I'd put my half-written book on the history, theory, and use of Fidelius aside for now.

"Darling, will this little apartment really be big enough for you and Neville and all your children?" Mum asked in her concerned tone.

I started at this. "'All' our children? Mum, you've got the only one right there."

"And I just might nick him," she said lovingly, cradling the sleeping bundle. "But there'll be more . . . ?"

I stopped myself from sighing. It wasn't bad enough that Mum was going mad over being a grandmother; now she wanted to be a grandmother many times over. "I assume so, eventually. But Mum, I'm not like you. I like children well enough, but I don't want a whole passel."

"You think that now," she said authoritatively. "Then they get to be old and you miss them needing you!"

"Mum, the twins can barely read. They still need you."

"Yes, well," she said contentedly, apparently all right for once with losing an argument, as long as she got to hold her grandson.

A.W. was born in early November -- right around Neville's and my 33rd anniversary, if you could wrap your mind around that particular time paradox -- so he was almost two months old when Cedric and Emmaline finally got to meet him. They Flooed over as soon as they got from the Hogwarts Express to their house; they were excited by the idea of being an uncle and aunt.

Emmaline, a first-year, cooed over the baby for a while, but soon lost interest, and went to find our Crup (whose name, it must be admitted, was Umbridge, as Neville enjoyed being able to yell, "Down, Umbridge!" and "Bad boy, Umbridge, bad boy!"). Cedric seemed entranced, though, and looked at me with light shining in his eyes when I offered to let him hold A.W.

"Just support his head and you'll be fine," I said, though he didn't look at all worried. Odd, that -- I thought all people new to babies were afraid to hold them. Though he had had experience with the twins.

He cradled A.W. to him, and the infant seemed perfectly content to lie in his arms. A.W. was an agreeable child, not prone to too many screaming fits, and he seemed to take well to any warm pair of arms that came his way. After a few minutes, Cedric spoke, but quietly, the way you would to someone who has just woken up. "So I'm his uncle."

"That's right," I said encouragingly.

"But what does that mean?"

"We have uncles, Cedric."

"Yes, but they're grown-ups."

I nodded. I could see his problem. "You're perfectly correct. If you could, I'd like you to be A.W.'s big brother."

He looked up at me, delight suffused across his features. "Big brother?"

I smiled at him. "You and I didn't really have big siblings, so we both know what it's like without one."

He looked a little guilty, as if I'd hit upon a secret. "You're my big sister."

"Yes, but I wasn't there for you, Cedric. I was just starting my own life, and still recovering from my year abroad." ("My year abroad" was how I referred to my jaunt in the past. It was just easier.) "And besides, I didn't know how to be anyone's big sister."

"I didn't know how to be a big brother when Emmaline came," Cedric mused. "I think I just learned as I went."

He hadn't meant it as a barb, but it stung a little. Then again, Cedric wasn't any worse off for my lack of involvement. "And you learned beautifully," I said, a little too brightly. "So you're the perfect candidate for A.W."

"Thanks, Susie," Cedric said reverently. "I'll be the best big brother you ever saw."

My siblings all called me Susie, but I wouldn't allow it from anyone else. "I know you will, Cedric."

He was, too. He came over about every other day, and eventually I even let Cedric be alone with A.W. while I napped. For his part, A.W. was absolutely thrilled. He always cooed and waved his little arms whenever he saw his beloved uncle coming. I had to stomp out the little embers of jealousy that flared up when I saw that; I was his mother, and I could never be replaced.

When Cedric went back to Hogwarts, I saw how glum A.W. was for a week or so, and I resolved to let my son see my brother whenever I could. Unfortunately, the next opportunity arose when my grandmother Molly was admitted to St. Mungo's in February with a fever and a deep, rattling cough that made her double over with its force.

When we got the word that Molly was in the hospital, Neville and I shut up the shop early, dressed A.W. in his warmest, and Flooed over, where the whole Weasley clan -- my parents, my brothers and sister, my uncles and aunts and cousins and cousins' children, and of course my grandfather Arthur -- was gathered in the second-floor waiting area. Mum had her hands full with the twins, whom she'd pulled out for the day of the Muggle elementary school they attended. Instead I gravitated over toward Cedric and Emmaline.

They were deep in conversation, in the sort of half-sentences I only ever heard between siblings or spouses. "If she --"

"-- no. 'Member, Grandpa and the snake?"

"'Course. That was ages ago, though. Mum and Dad were still --"

"-- yeah. Well, we're here, and --"

"-- right."

I interrupted, though I liked the rhythm of the back-and-forth. "Cedric?" I said tentatively.

He turned to face me. His face lit up when he saw A.W. in my arms, and he held out his arms automatically to take him. I didn't hesitate, but handed over the sleeping infant.

Cedric cradled A.W. to his chest blissfully. He was a born father, that one, and I saw my father watching his son from afar. My mother was crying in fear and didn't notice Cedric's fascination with the baby.

At that point, a Healer stepped out into the room, and the room went quiet. She saw that we were all there for Molly, and she pitched her voice so we could all hear. "Mrs. Weasley has been stricken with wizard's pneumonia," she said. "She'll be here for at least a week. We'll be administering potions every hour, monitoring her breathing, and easing any pain she has. You may see her, but you'll need to wear these," and here she held up a face mask. "Wizard's pneumonia is highly contagious." She caught sight of me and a few other mothers of young children. "I must ask that you keep babies out of her room, and if you are the parent of an infant, I strongly encourage you to remain outside as well. Anyone who has regular contact with children under two shouldn't be exposed to wizard's pneumonia under any circumstances."

I winced. I was very close with Molly, and I desperately wanted to see her. But she'd understand that I couldn't endanger A.W.

Neville put a hand on my arm, and I looked up at him. His expression was half determined, half fearful. "While we're here . . . ."

I caught his meaning immediately. His parents were still, after all these years, living at the hospital. They were old before their time; wizards and witches considered their sixties and seventies to be their midlives, but something about the aftereffecs of Cruciatus had made the Longbottoms much more like Muggles in that regard. They were lined, grey, and weary. The Healers on their ward had warned us that Frank and Alice would probably not live much more than another decade, if that.

"They should meet A.W.," I said quietly. The infant in question was sleeping blissfully in his uncle's arms. Cedric, for his part, looked stricken, but I let him hold A.W. a little longer and walked over to where my mother stood instead.

"Mum?" I said gently. She looked up from Dad's shoulder. She was an utter mess, her face tearstained, her hair standing up every which way.

"Neville and I can't stay," I continued. "We can't risk exposing A.W."

She nodded wordlessly, and I kissed her and Dad both before rejoining my husband.

"Ced, we're going to take A.W. to meet his other grandparents. They live here in the hospital."

Cedric looked very disappointed, but he handed A.W. to Neville. "You'll see him again soon," I said, hoping my tone sounded encouraging. The truth was, he probably wouldn't see the baby till Easter, and at this age, there was no way A.W. would remember Cedric then.

I gave Cedric a peck on the cheek, which he smiled at, and then Neville and I went to the nearest staircase.

The two flights up to the Janus Thickey Ward seemed much longer than any normal flight of stairs. I wasn't dreading this encounter per se -- I was dreading the moment that would inevitably come, when Neville would try so hard to make his parents understand who A.W. was, and when they wouldn't be able to.

There were other people in the ward, as usual, but Neville and I, after nodding our hellos to the nurses on duty, went into their little area and shut the curtain.

"Mum, Dad," Neville said, his voice cracking a little. "We've brought our son for you to see." He held out his arms, where A.W. slept guilelessly on.

Alice's eyes went wide, and she put both hands over her mouth. Then she clenched them into loose fists and spoke: "Neville."

It was no more than a rasping whisper, but it might have been a roar from the way it affected us. We both started violently, and I clutched Neville's shoulder convulsively. Meanwhile, Neville's sudden motion woke up A.W., who began to cry.

Before we could make a move, Alice moved forward and took A.W. from Neville. She began to jounce him in her arms and make hushing noises. She called the baby "Neville" over and over again. "Shhh, Neville, shhhhh."

Frank had taken an interest in the proceedings, and he turned toward his wife. He reached out one trembling hand and stroked the black hair on A.W.'s head. "Hush, Neville," he croaked.

Neville and I sat absolutely still. Frank and Alice had occasionally said a word or two in our presence -- the nurses told us they spoke a little more around them and the Healers, whom the Longbottoms recognized much better -- but never had they been so lucid. Their words had just been tics, like the bubblegum wrappers Alice handed Neville from time to time, or the way Frank would sometimes look into my eyes and then squint, as though contemplating something. They'd never meant much of anything.

Now apparently Alice had been tumbled back nearly fifty years in the past and believed that my baby was her son. No one had said anything about A.W. resembling his father that much . . . but then, who was there to say as much? Neville's Gran had died about five years back, and no one else had really known him as a baby.

Neville motioned for me to follow him, so when he stood and ducked outside the curtain, I did the same. "How are we going to take the baby from her?" Neville said in an anguished whisper when we were out of his parents' space.

My insides went cold. I imagined Alice beating her breast, Frank weeping. They believed it was their son.

"We could have a Healer take A.W. back," I whispered.

"I suppose," Neville said doubtfully. "If only they knew who we were!"

I circled my arms around his shoulders and pressed my cheek against his. "I know."

He slumped in my embrace a little, and I supported him. I'd never known this kind of pain, but I could help him get through his.

As we stood their, oblivious to the other patients, I heard the door to the ward open and slam shut. I whirled around to find Cedric standing at the door, looking flushed and faintly defiant.

"Cedric!" I cried.

"I'd rather see the baby than see Grandma," he said, pursing his lips firmly as he finished his declaration.

"Oh, no," I said. "You mustn't do that. It'll hurt Grandma's feelings terribly."

His expression went soft. "I know, but I can tell someone to tell her that I miss her. A.W. doesn't understand those things yet."

I understood his point, but my mother would never forgive me if I allowed him to stay. "Sorry, Ced, but you'll have to wait till Easter."

"Just let me say good-bye," he wheedled.

"I . . . ." I trailed off. How to explain about Neville's parents? About their illness? About the confusion?

"It's all right," Neville said. "Cedric, you're old enough; you can meet my parents."

We three went back into the curtained space, and Neville spoke in a low tone. "These are my parents. They were tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange when I was only a little more than a year old. I was raised by my paternal grandmother."

Cedric stood, his mouth hanging open slightly. I wanted to throw him a sisterly elbow to the ribs, but I didn't think it was very appropriate.

Alice looked up at Cedric at that moment. "James," she said, smiling at him. "James, look." And she profferred the baby to him.

Cedric, unsure what was going on but thrilled to have a moment with A.W., took my son from Alice's arms. He rocked A.W. back and forth, grinning from ear to ear.

"Harry?" Alice said, but I understood exactly what she meant from her tone of voice: _How's Harry? Is he as big and healthy as my boy?_

I took the opportunity to whisper in Cedric's ear, and he parroted me: "Harry's doing great, thank you, Alice. Lily and I couldn't be prouder."

Frank and Alice both smiled at this response. In that moment, I saw our way out, a way that would hurt my in-laws but not cause them any further confusion.

"Cedric, just do as I tell you," I hissed into his ear.

Under my direction, Cedric said slowly, carefully, "Frank, Alice, you've been in an accident. That's why you're here at St. Mungo's. I'm going to take Neville from you now and give him to Augusta to raise."

Alice's eyes filled with tears, and Frank looked down at his feet. But they did not protest, did not fly into a rage or shut down completely.

"Say good-bye to him," Cedric continued, and held A.W. close to their faces so they could kiss him good-bye, baptizing him with their tears. Mercifully, A.W. was calm and quiet through all this.

"Wave bye-bye, Neville," Cedric said, and moved A.W.'s little arm up and down in a gesture of farewell. Then we backed slowly out of the curtained alcove; the last thing we saw was Frank pressing one hand to his chest, and Alice kissing her fingertips lightly and turning them outward ever so slightly.

In the ward proper, I took A.W. from Cedric and hugged him to me gently. "Baby, baby," I crooned.

"I guess I have to go see Grandma now," Cedric grumbled.

"Yes, you do," I said severely. "And give her our best."

"All right, all right." Cedric kissed A.W.'s forehead one last time, then bounded out the door to the ward. We heard his footsteps -- quick and heavy, like he was going down two at a time -- for another minute.

"All's well that ends well," I said, a little wistfully.

Neville, who'd been staring into the middle distance, responded by taking the baby from me and slinging him over his shoulder, so A.W.'s tiny arms dangled down his back. Still, our son slept on, ignorant of all the history he'd just been dragged into.

"Home?" my husband asked.

"Home," I agreed, and together we descended the staircase to the exit.


End file.
